


A Christmas Carol With the Seeds

by CobaltPhosphene, lowtides, orphan_account, Too_Many_Seeds, tribunal



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Developing Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 02:18:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17458730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltPhosphene/pseuds/CobaltPhosphene, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowtides/pseuds/lowtides, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Too_Many_Seeds/pseuds/Too_Many_Seeds, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tribunal/pseuds/tribunal
Summary: A belated Christmas gift for the wonderful Lily (outranks) from our Discord group.---Welcome to the tale of past, present, and future for the Deputy and his beloved Priest.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [outranks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/outranks/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by Jake (CobaltPhosphene) ♡

 

‘Twas the night of judiciousness, when all through the house, the Peggies were stirring—after kidnapping that  _ louse. _ “That louse” being that one particularly troublesome Deputy who has blown up two trucks and  _ three  _ airplanes so far this night, and has led John’s men on a merry chase around a packing facility for a good forty minutes before they managed to finally nail him with a Bliss bullet.

 

This did not stop the Deputy from a final act of defiance, namely hurling himself off of a cliff in a moment of either incredible spite or superhuman levels of self-assurance in his own survivability. As a tactic it almost works given how long it takes the capture party to actually climb down the cliff face, as Rook had begun reviving from the glancing shot that had taken him down.

 

And he didn’t even have the decency to be all that broken up after his fall either, to the Peggies’ annoyance—which was probably just as well, given that John wanted him brought in unharmed.

 

The capture party makes sure to put another two Bliss bullets into him, just to be  _ extra _ extra sure. It is the Deputy, after all. They also tie him up with double-knots that they triple-checked after quadruple-searching the man for knives, razors, sharpened wire, plastic cutlery, arrowheads, edged belt buckles, scissors, scalpels, pointy sticks and cheese knives. All such found objects are confiscated, including the rest of the man’s arsenal and ammunition.

 

This includes a disturbing amount of fireworks squirreled away about his person.

 

The party then manages to get the show on the road—after two false starts with the engines of their vehicles mysteriously combusting into flames. That brought up the total number of wrecked automobiles to four, but they came prepared with six specifically for that reason.

 

It’s still a rather tense ride back to John’s ranch—all of the Project’s drivers have gotten a little bit jumpy, given the high incidence rate of collisions-with-planted-explosives in the recent times. It was probably fine since the Deputy was in the vehicle with them...probably.

 

They were still on standing orders to be on a strict lookout for monkeys, whether or not they were wearing vests with visible explosives on them.

 

Of course Rook started coming to right as they were unloading him at the ranch, but seeing as it wasn’t the bunker-slash-torture-chamber, he was actually mildly curious what was afoot. It became curiouser and curiouser as he was roughly tossed onto the couch and then had to be sat up, because damn they really went all out on the knots this time didn’t they—still was some wiggle room potential to try to flirt his way out of it though, and instead of John, it was Joseph who was led reverentially to sit beside him.

 

The bemused look on Joseph’s face just added to the list of questions in Rook’s head, like what was with the curtains and stage—were they in for a play that explored the power of Yes as a theme?

 

...Rook could see John doing that, especially for a private audience of his older brother Joseph and the number one Sinner in all of Hope County. Particularly after that one incident with the smaller YES sign...but that had really been more Sharky’s fault. And the beer’s.

 

It was definitely the beer’s fault and both Sharky and Adelaide’s influence that had resulted in that one Power Of Yes billboard being given a graffiti-makeover that added a very lewd—and frankly fitting in Sharky’s opinion, though Rook didn’t ask how Sharky knew—expression painted over John’s face. What had Adelaide called it...aheggo? Ahogo?

 

Not something he needed the mental image of in his head right now. Time for polite captive-audience conversation starters instead.

 

“Hey Joseph, you’re looking well. They rope you into this too?” He says with a wiggle of his very snuggly rope-wrangled self. Top among his questions however is the following one, addressed to the nearby hovering Peggie, “Mind untying me for a quick trip to the bathroom? It’s been a long car ride.”

 

The Peggie looks like Rook has lost his mind, needing to go to the bathroom when he is seated beside the Father. “What? No! You’ll set something on fire with your urination, and John’s worked so hard on this, he’d be so terribly upset if you burned it all down before you watched it.”

 

“I can’t set fire to things with my pee!” Rook exclaims, mildly amused that some Peggies still believe that rumor, very horrified this is happening in front of Joseph.

 

The Peggie scowls with absolute mistrust of Rook’s claims, and scuttles away towards what should be a kitchen in John’s house but is really more like a small grocery store deli’s counter, or a large furniture store’s display space. Rook had actually peeked in the cabinets once to check if there was actual plumbing and supplies in there like a normal kitchen—he’d found a not-so-surprising plethora of extra knives along with all the rest.

 

Joseph takes this all in calmly, then looks to Rook patiently for an explanation.

 

Rook shrugs as best as he is able, a bit sheepishly. “I made a joke the one time about fire raining down from the heavens and...uh...yeah I dunno how it came to this point either.”

 

More like he just doesn’t want to explain a pee joke he heard from Sharky to Joseph because boy that was a great impression to make on the other man wasn’t it.

 

“I see,” Joseph says in that effortless I’m-not-judging-you-but-you-know-I-should-be voice of his that is all too reasonable and all too good at inspiring penitence in whatever unfortunate listener was the focus of such sentiment. He was kind enough to only make Rook sweat a little bit though, before Joseph broke into a warm smile. “It is good to see you though Rook, odd circumstances aside. Are you well?”

 

Now Rook’s sweating for slightly different reasons. He smiles back, relieved that Joseph is taking this all in stride. “Yeah, I am. A little tied up at the moment, but I’m good. You?”

 

“I am well. A little perplexed, but well.”

 

The Peggie comes back at this time, offering Joseph a cup of hot cocoa piled high with whipped cream as if he were offering a holy grail to a king. To Rook he shot another extremely suspicious glance, hesitating on letting go of a second cup of hot cocoa topped with a much smaller bit of whipped cream...not that Rook could take it, of course, being still tied up. Apparently giving Rook drinkable fluids of any kind counted as giving him ammunition now in this Peggie’s eyes.

 

“It’ll be fine, the Deputy won’t set anything on fire in the meantime,” Joseph says soothingly, and the Peggie immediately defers before him, leaving the cup—which Rook still can’t pick up—on the floor beside him.

 

Rook looks at the cup, then back up to Joseph, then back at the cup again. “He’s one of John’s, isn’t he.”

 

“He is, why?”

 

“...no reason.” No reason being, the spiteful torture of putting a cup of cocoa within Rook’s reach, but leaving his hands tied up and unable to grasp it. He could make it work if he’d had his feet free, but they’d been extra careful this time and tied him up like a Christmas roast. It was honestly a surprise they hadn’t tied his fingers and toes together by this point.

 

Joseph decides to have mercy on Rook at this point, setting his own cocoa down and reaching over to untie the Deputy—and suddenly Rook can’t find it in him to really object to having been tied up in the first place. “They wouldn’t tie you up with so much zeal if you came quietly, you know,” Joseph’s tone is part chiding, part gentle amusement.

 

“Why would I come quietly when someone says, “put your guns down and your hands up” in Hope County? In the middle of the apocalypse?” Rook complains, but it’s really just for the sake of complaining since he’s quite alright with Joseph helping to rub some circulation back into his wrists.

 

Joseph just shakes his head, smiling a bit as he hands Rook his cocoa. “It looks like we’re about to learn why we’ve been gathered here this eve,” he says, looking towards the rustling  and opening of the curtains to reveal the stage-slash-fireplace.


	2. Faith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by Jet (Tribunal) ♡

The Junior Deputy settles into his seat with resignation, both parts weary and amused, lowkey curious if he's allowed the gift of honesty. His freshly-freed hands still have the tingles of that old pins and needles feeling lancing through them, nerves reawakening as he massages his hands, trying to glean some circulation back into them. It's a lost cause, the feeling not even bothering to abate as he slips his fingers over one another vigorously, scoffing in dismay. Christ, can he catch a break _just once, maybe?_

Joseph, next to him, sips at his...could one call it a drink at this point? It's a downright abomination, it's giving the Deputy heart palpitations just _looking_ at it, to say nothing of how Joseph himself looks when he comes from his drink with whipped cream staining his 'stache.

God, why does that kinda look hot? Is he sick, maybe? Bit ill in the head? Guy's kinda sorta maybe made life a living hell for the inhabitants of Hope County, most of which are the Dep's pals in some way or another. Making eyes at Joseph--checking out the high arcing of his cheekbones--has the Deputy wondering if he should get his head examined.

Focus. The Dep's attention is drawn back to the stage at the sound of soft footsteps on floorboards, at the rattling of hastily-added curtains that overworked Peggies try and heft up, barely hidden from the corner of their sight. Even with that manic joy staining their eyes, they still look mussed up and exhausted, bags under their eyes attesting to their strain. Dep's gotta hand it to 'em, they're dedicated, at least. To a fault, sometimes (oftentimes) to their own detriment, but, y'know. Dedication.

Faith toddles out onto the stage, unsteady gait eerily graceful. Whether it's a side effect of working with the Bliss so closely (of engineering the damn drug; people rarely give her enough credit, frankly) or another addition to her cultivated persona (the hippy act can't be _real_ , there's no fucking way) is anyone's guess. It's her on stage, though, Dep knows the mass in front of him is the youngest Seed, even if the ill-fitting wig settled crookedly atop her head boasts otherwise. Wispy strands of honey brown flit from the confines of the black wig, bangs not even being bothered to hide. She steps onto the ramshackle stage, feet bare under her curiously dark robes, some mass moving behind her. 

"Hair's a little..." The Rook tries to call out, pats at the front of his own head in some hackneyed attempt to get her to fix it, but she does nothing but smiles, placating, as though _he's_ being silly when she's the one with a hairpiece and a half plopped on her like an afterthought.

Her giggle is infectious, though, bubbling out of her like the sun greets the day, pulling a startled laugh from the Dep as well, Joseph's gaze swiveling to meet the Junior Deputy's. Just her "magic", he supposes. Or the fucking haze fitted to her like a cloud, fogging up the air in front of her-

No. That's a fog machine. Baby bro really went all out this year, huh? But...couldn't spring for a better fitting wig for surrogate sis? Well, there's drama in this too, Rook thinks, and this curious little family's nothing if not _extra as all hell_. He's got memories of migraines from their shenanigans, of cleaning up after them, of Faith in front of him blinking those doe eyes at him owlishly, something or another of how "Joseph would think the most of you if you..." and whatever her request was.

It was always an obvious manipulation, but he's got a heart-on (it's more romantic if it's not about your dick, right?) for their middlest brother like you _would not believe_ , and he can only pray to whatever god they fuck with that those even blue eyes behind too-yellow shades aren't all-knowing in this, too.

"You in there, Rook?" Faith waves her hand in front of the Dep's face, smile curling up into something mischievous. The mass behind her moves, winks--worrisome--behind her form. Paired with the winsome expression, the dichotomy steers the Dep off balance, has him clenching his hands in preparation for _something._ He likes Faith, likes Joseph, but trust is about as tenuous as it can get; there's something markedly different between wanting someone to rearrange your guts from the outside and _trusting_ them.

"Don't go on and play without me, rosebud, that takes away so much of the fun!" The nickname's new, she only recently started shifting wholly into this whole plant-based persona she's somehow managed to cultivate, leaning into it with the same easy grace she's dealt with whatever comes her way. God, Dep _wishes_ he could be that easy-going _ever_.

Faith clears her throat, eyes dancing as she surreptitiously checks the writing in her fist. God, John _really_ wrote up scripts and shit for this, huh? Like he said, _extra as all hell_.

"Your past!" Another check, a quick shrugging of her shoulders to show she's _very likely_ going to wing it. The shadows behind her shimmy, one curls around her waist and pulls out a wrinkle in her dress. Tendril-like, tentacles? Vines dyed dark? Something else John's whipped up?

You know what, he's not gonna think about it. It's probably just Faith. Her eyes are intense, clouded but no less determined. "Your past," She repeats, diving into her speech with aplomb, "Is murky, misty. You jumped at perceived shadows, shied away from those who would help. Much like now, I suppose, oh! But that’s a bit different this time around!" One of her hands gestures towards Joseph, a tendril separating from her to follow the movement. Ah. Creepy. But the Dep's not here to be pandered to, preached to. He opens his mouth, but Joseph's cold hand on one of his arms stops him. Objections burble up, spiral from his mind in choppy waves, but the cold disquiet of Joseph’s grip stills that quickly-moving mind.

"Let her."

And the Rook falls silent, Faith picking up as though nothing's happened. The tendrils curl around her feet, picking at the edges of her dress and-

Wait a second. That's a hand. A very distinct, very _tattooed_ hand.

Are you fucking kidding?

"Going the way you--we--are, none of us will like where we end up." Her nod is quick, bobbing both her hairs and the synthetic ones of the wig. "Seek comfort in the unexpected, find bliss in the obvious. Separate yourself from all those silly unpleasantries." She giggles, hands coming to her mouth as though she's said a naughty word. "Not _Bliss_ , though, that's not what we want at all! But the Father," She gestures to Joseph again, "He's here for us, here for _you._ Embrace him. Shift the cycle, just a bit, alright?"

The Deputy's gotta be imagining that knowing cant to her brow, right? She's perceptive, yes, but **come on.** But she folds her hands in front of her. "There wasn't much for me to say that's not obvious, Rook. I'm afraid I'm all speeched out!" Faith waves, the fog overwhelming her. "Come by for tea sometime!"

As quickly as she surfaced, she's gone. Some mysterious Lady of the Lake content there, Rook turns to Joseph next to him. "Cool show. What else you got?"


	3. John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by Tia (Seedsplease) ♡

 

The stage is suspiciously vacant, and Rook isn’t quite sure what to expect next. He casts a quick glance to the side to see Joseph watching the stage, a slight crease to his brow but otherwise utterly unreadable. 

Well, at least Rook could draw some comfort from the fact that Mr Manbun was in the exact same boat as he was. 

Fortunately, they’re not left waiting for long. 

After a few more moments of silence, a suspicious whirring sound can be heard from the sides of the stage, and Rook squints into the gloom. A fog begins to spread throughout the room and Rook is able to smell the manufactured smokiness of whatever machine was being used. 

“Is that…?” He starts, frowning. 

Beside him, he hears a sigh. 

“Oh,” Joseph murmurs, exasperation in his voice and speaking half to himself. “That explains the fog machine in the garage.” 

Rook nearly throws his hands up in confusion as he stares to the side of the stage and indeed catches sight of the heartily-thrumming machine. 

“What?” He shakes his head. “Where did he even  _ get  _ that?” 

Before Joseph can answer, a booming voice comes from the stage. 

“Behold!” Strutting into view is John Seed, covered in a floor length cloak that looks more like something off a Harry Potter set, and Rook squints as a floodlight illuminates him. “I am the illustrious ghost of Christmas Present, because I _ am _ a present.” His lip visibly twitches, clearly wanting to break character and give a shit-eating grin, but he holds firm, even while Joseph sighs and rubs at his brow in the audience. “I am here to show you the truth of your present...and, my dear audience, it is a  _ dire  _ truth, indeed.” 

He sniffs once, and then whips away the cloak in one wide, sweeping gesture; tossing the thing offstage to the side and placing his hands on his hips to showcase what was revealed. 

Rook takes a few seconds before gasping at the new costume. 

“Is that...a  _ Deputy  _ uniform?” He asks, spluttering. “I... _ how _ ?” 

“Oh, dear,” Joseph says quietly, but before either of them could continue, they were interrupted. 

“T’is I, the Deputy!” John says loudly. “And when I'm not busy being a little SHIT" - John turns and glares at the Deputy for a second before resuming character - "I'm busy making googly eyes over the  _ second  _ most handsome Seed brother."

In the audience, Rook chokes at this, mouth agape as he watches the travesty unfold before him. He adamantly refuses to look at Joseph - not even wanting to see how  _ he  _ was reacting to this. 

“Oh, woe is me! If only I could see him now!” John places a hand to his forehead and shuts his eyes while sidestepping to the left, as though to make room for another. A few moments of silence pass, with John frozen in the same pose, waiting. His eyes flicker open, peering to other side of the stage. He clears his throat. “I  _ said _ ...If only I could  _ see  _ him now!” Another few beats of silence pass, before John scowls and stands upright, breaking character. “ _ Jacob! _ ” 

“Not doing it,” comes the voice from offstage. 

“You said you would!” 

“I lied.” 

John hisses, and Rook is, all at once, reminded of a pissy little cat. The man stalks over to the side of the stage and snatches something from the nearest person. He fumbles in the corner of the dark stage, barely visible, and when he whirls around and comes back into the light, he’s wearing a wig with a very familiar-styled manbun. 

“ _ Behold _ , t’is I, Joseph Seed,” he says in an exaggeratedly deep voice. “Here to save you from eternal damnation, Deputy.” Again, there is a brief break in character as John glares pointedly at Rook before resuming. “So just...come spend seven years in a bunker with me, please.” 

John turns his back on the audience and hurriedly rips the wig off, shoving it in the hem of the deputy jeans. He takes a step to the side and turns back to where he had been standing the moment before, when he was playing his brother.

“Oh, Joseph!” John says, laying it thick on the adoration in his voice as he smiles at the area where he was previously. “Seven years in a bunker? More like seven years in heaven!” He laughs exaggeratedly, and then quickly turns to the back of the stage and puts the wig in place, stepping back to the Joseph position. 

“Ha, ha, ha.” 

He rips the wig off and returns to his allocated Deputy role, and his expression sobers up slightly, his lips tugging down into a pout and his eyes drooping. 

“But...I can’t, Joseph, because I am a sinner.” John shakes his head sadly, and then puts his hands on his hips. “And I want to go blow up some more of John’s silos, which is really quite rude of me and I should probably learn to be more considerate. Goodbye, Joseph.” 

He begins to walk off towards the side of the stage, but dramatically throws a lingering glance over his shoulder at the area where he had been standing as Joseph, as though one character were glancing longingly at the other. 

Rook rolls his eyes and tries to push down the horrible, embarrassed blood rushing to his cheeks at this entire display. 

John exits the stage, and Rook blissfully thinks its over, but he hears a commotion from the other side and quick, shuffling footsteps from one area of the backstage to the other, and sees a distinct outline of a figure fumbling against the stage curtain. He groans as John finally re-emerges from the other side of the stage, Joseph wig back in place as he sighs wistfully.

“If only I could make him listen,” he says, and droops his shoulders sadly. “I wish that I had someone, perhaps a  _ loving  _ brother of mine, who could intervene and convince my family to put on an elaborate play to show me and the Deputy just how foolish we’re being.” The frustrated glare John Seed sends out to his audience is definitely not in character. “And hope that  _ maybe,  _ it might manage to get them to talk about their feelings like adults and just admit that they’re hopelessly besotted with each other!” 

He huffs, and with that, marches offstage. 

Rook is still gaping - though he isn’t sure whether he ever stopped during that entire spectacle. 

“Well, that...was definitely  _ something _ ,” he says, but all he hears is a reserved hum of agreement from Joseph.


	4. Jacob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by Tides (Lowtides) ♡

Jacob’s act is less of a performance and more of a disquieting act of kindness for his brother. Disquieting because though Jacob is doing something  _nice_ , he’s still being his usual terrifying self. It’s undecided whether the grim reaper garb he wears makes his usual gruffness endearing, or if it makes it even more frightening. The fact that he’s wearing a hastily made costume is truly something to smile at, but he looks like the goddamn Grim Reaper, and the Grim Reaper doesn’t look happy about his current predicament at all.

The engulfing black hood obscures the top half of Jacob’s face, but the dark red beard poking out and his hulking stature gives him away. In one scarred hand he holds a scythe, and the other hand is kept with his palm facing himself. Rook and Joseph can’t see what Jacob is looking at with that hood covering his eyes, but the way he not-so-subtlety holds his hand in front of himself might suggest that Jacob is staring intently at something on his palm.

“I am the Ghost of Christmas Future,” Jacob begins in a low, ominous voice. The kind of voice he has reserved for crooning through the radio, like a phantom in the Whitetail Mountains. “And tonight, I show you—” Jacob pauses. The short silence is filled with concentration as he stands stock still, likely squinting at his palm beneath that hood. “Tonight, I show you both the future of next Christmas.” Someone behind the fireplace clears their throat. Loudly. The Ghost of Christmas Future bristles at the sound, then grates, “Or the future of tonight. After this. The near future.”

“Tonight is definitely the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me in this county,” Rook mutters to Joseph. He glances briefly at Joseph, whose cheeks have turned an adorable shade of pink. “And I’m pretty sure I’ve sent a guy to  _space_.”

Joseph frowns softly at that, attention somewhat torn between Rook’s proclamation of assisted space travel and the  _captivating_ performance his family has put on for them.

Jacob steps forward, the light from the fireplace casting a halo of light that just adds to the presence of his grim reaper costume. He drags his scythe along with him and digs into his pocket with his free hand. Rook and Joseph couldn’t even tell that his costume came with pockets.

“Behold,” Jacob says flatly, producing something small and rectangular from his pocket. He juts his hand out towards them, stopping right in front of Rook’s face. “Your future.”

“You want me to take this?” Rook frowns up at Jacob, leaning back slightly. He shrugs and accepts the little rectangle Jacob shoves in his face one more time. “Okay, okay, I’m taking it.”

It’s a folded piece of paper. Rook’s frown deepens, curiously unfolding the paper as Joseph leans towards him for a better look. Rook scans the paper for a second, then, dumbfounded, all he can say is, “This is a stick figure drawing of two people holding hands.”

Somewhere behind the fireplace, there’s a sigh and a resounding  _thwack_ of someone slapping their palm to their face.

Then it dawns on Rook. “This is a stick figure drawing of  _me_ and  _Joseph_ holding hands.”

Joseph looks up at Grim Reaper Jacob, a small smile tugging the corner of his mouth. “Did you draw this, Jacob?”

The Ghost of Christmas Future bristles, knuckles cracking as his hand tightens around the staff of the scythe. “This is your future. Maybe. Merry Christmas.”

And with that, Jacob turns around, black robe swishing dramatically as he makes his way behind the fireplace.

Rook considers the drawing again, Joseph warm at his side. It’s not that bad.


	5. Let's Start It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter written by Jack (Depyootee) ♡

“I'm not much for wrath, but… I may kill my brothers for this.” Joseph mutters into his hands, covering his face and hiding the red that's creeping up his face.

 

Rook smiles. Despite all of their fighting, the war at hand, the kidnappings… his brothers and Faith went out of their way to do this for Joseph, stringing him along and letting him suffer together in silence. He noticed Joseph had moved closer to him some time during the uh… “show,” and he could feel his shoulder pressing next to his on John's way too comfortable couch.

 

Who, by the way, DEFINITELY owes Rook a favor after noticing the bag of “oregano” next to the coffee table and quickly kicking it under the couch to hide it from the Father. He isn't sure if Joseph cares, but would rather not be witness to that tongue lashing should it be an issue.

 

John saunters out onto the stage, dragging behind Jacob who absolutely refused to wear his costume more than needed, flicking his wrist to usher Faith behind them. In his usual dramatic fashion, John bows deeply, dragging Jacob down with him in the bow. Rook and Joseph can't hear, but Jacob grumbles something vicious and elbows John in the ribs as they stand up. 

 

Faith bows a little, eyes bright and happy with a big smile, waves at Rook and Joseph before skipping behind the screen.

 

“This is the part where you  _ clap _ !” John's head pops out from the curtain and Rook resists the urge to laugh at the floating Johnny head. 

 

Rook awkwardly claps and Joseph sighs before clapping twice and standing up.

 

“Joseph-”

 

Rook doesn't hesitate, smiling, and pulls Joseph's face into a kiss. They hesitate for a moment, waiting for the other to cringe away or regret, but neither do, and Rook sighs in relief. 

 

“Maybe your family has a good point.” Rook whispers to him. “Maybe we can start this officially.”

 

Joseph kneels next to him, knees on either side of Rook's hips, when he hears a rumble of laughter behind Joseph and both jerk in surprise. 

 

“I guess it worked.” Jacob laughs, and waves over his shoulder as he starts to leave the ranch.

 

“I hate all of you.” Rook laughs, he can't help it. Maybe he's smitten after all. 

 

But he's still going to kill John.


End file.
